


Pet Canary

by Miratete



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Hypnotism, Music, Pet Dynamics, Rescue, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-08-20 14:14:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16557302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miratete/pseuds/Miratete
Summary: -o-o-o-o-o-While on a construction job for Shockwave, the Constructicons find, capture, and keep a tiny cassette-former with a big voice. Soundwave takes notice, but what is his intent regarding the little pink femme?-o-o-o-o-o-





	1. The Empty

-o-o-o-o-o-

The eight Constructicons sat beneath their shelter at the edge of the jobsite, refueling themselves on some rather generous portions of energon. Shockwave always knew how to keep the work going. A well fueled 'Con was a cooperative 'Con.

“Yo, Scrapper, what'cha looking at?” questioned Mixmaster.

Scrapper gave a little click and turned his head back the direction his body was facing, into the gathering of his team. “Eh, I thought I saw something moving over in the rubble of that building there.” His hand rose and pointed back at one of the long-fallen buildings in the former neighborhood. What had once been at least four or five stories of apartments or offices was now a rust-stained pile of girders and cement blocks.

The rest of the group, their conversations pausing, all turned to look. But after watching for a couple of kliks and seeing nothing, they went back to their conversations...except for Scavenger. The power shovel compacted his cube when only a couple swallows remained in it. Then he walked over to the ruins Scrapper had indicated. He set down the partial cube and walked back to the group.

To everyone's surprise, after another couple of kliks, a tiny mech with dirty pink plating crawled out from the fallen building's ruins, darted over to the cube, paused a moment to look at the group of bright green and purple mechs, and then snatched it up and darted back beneath a fallen wall.

“I detected him in there,” chortled Scavenger, waggling his sensitive shovel behind him proudly.

“I didn't think there were any empties around here,” said Hook, his curiosity piqued. “I thought they'd all been killed off or had run away before that happened.”

“Well, there's at least one. There could be more, I suppose,” theorized Scrapper.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Over the next few days, as the Constructicons continued with Shockwave's latest assignment, they continued to leave a small portion of energon at the edge of the job site whenever they sat down to their twice daily rest and refuel period. And after placing it and backing away, the tiny pink mech would nervously emerge from beneath the fallen wall, take the partial cube, and dart away to the safety of his hole.

It wasn't long before he came to expect it and would be spotted sitting in waiting at the mouth of his presumed home. He would duck into the depths of his home when the delivery was made, reappearing in moments to take the tiny bit of good fortune the Decepticon construction crew had decided to share.

Scrapper was usually the one to give up the few sips of his fuel, and he took a liking to the dull pink mech. He'd call to the tiny bot as he walked over, thinking of the little beggar as the 'site pet.' He placed the cube in the same place each time, the low end of a twisted girder, and would walk away slowly. 

On one evening, instead of leaving, he only walked part of the way back to the shelter and sat down and waited, having decided to get a better look at the little mech. The pink mech began to emerge, but hesitated on seeing the much larger construction robot sitting nearby. “It's okay,” he said softly. “I just wanted a better look at you.”

Blue optics of the visor variety peered out of the shadows.

“Go ahead,” he said, trying to sound like as little of a threat as possible. “You can say hello. I'm just trying to be friendly.”

The tiny thing moved cautiously out to the cube, took it quickly, and then retreated back into the rubble that had once been a medium sized building.

Satisfied, Scrapper rose and returned to the others.

“So, get a good look at him?”

“Yeah, and I'm sure that 'he's' a 'she' now that I have.”

“A femme? Really?” The others were quite intrigued. So few femmes had survived to the present.

“Doesn't look like a femme,” rumbled Long Haul. “Well, except for the color, but here in Kaon that pink was popular enough on small mechs as well as femmes. What makes you think this one's a femme?”

“Something about the way she moves and the way she looked at me. And I'm pretty sure she's a cassette-former. She's the same size and roughly the same shape as Rumble and Frenzy.”

“Did she say anything?”

Scrapper shook his head. “She didn't want to talk to me.”

“Eh, femme or not, he or she is kinda cute,” said Scavenger. “But I'll go with whatever Scrapper says.”

“She is kinda cute. She doesn't even reach my knees when she's standing,” Scrapper chuckled.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Three days later Scrapper had coaxed the mini-cassette into taking her miniature energon ration out of his hand. “Definitely a femme. There's just something about her,” he said happily on rejoining the others. “And she's not in too bad of shape, all things considered.”

Mixmaster cackled. “We should clean her up and take her back as a little gal-pal for Rumble and Frenzy.”

“Yeah!” agreed Long Haul. It's embarrassing watching them trying to cozy up to the larger mechs.”

“We could sell her to Soundwave,” suggested Bonecrusher, a wicked glint in his visor.

“What would Soundwave want with yet another mini-cassette? How many does he have docking with him already? Five? Six?” Hook said dismissively.

“Yeah, but no femmes,” said Mixmaster. “He could use a femme.”

“I don't think he even likes femmes,” returned Hook.

“I don't think he even likes mechs,” snorted Bonecrusher. It was well known that Soundwave was not the social sort. He did his job and that was that.

Scrapper sighed. “I just wish she'd talk to me.”

Mixmaster patted him consolingly on the shoulder. “Hey, can you blame her? Given the way most Decepticons have treated the empties? That brand on your chest pretty much just says 'Hi...would you like a sample of my weapon?'”

“You've gotta admit, empties make for pretty good target practice,” chortled Bonecrusher.

Scrapper gave the bulldozer an icy glare. “Do you have to be such a psychopath? It's not in your programming.”

Bonecrusher just chuckled, gave the team leader a devil-may-care smirk, and crumpled the empty energon cube in his hands.

“I still say we catch her and take her back for Rumble and Frenzy,” said Mixmaster, looking again in the direction of the fallen buiding.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Four days later, Hook sat with the tiny energon cube in his extended hand while Scrapper leaned on his shoulder. “Here she comes,” he whispered. “Just hold it steady and let her take it from you,” the front-end loader instructed. “She's still really shy.”

The diminutive cassette-former slipped out of her hole and paused a moment at seeing two mechs there with her expected meal.

“It's okay, little one,” Scrapper assured her. “He just wanted to look at you too.”

She crept closer, definitely wary of the new mech. Timidly she reached out and snatched the cube away, but as she turned to retreat, Hook's cable shot out and wrapped about her frame, binding her arms and legs. The cube hit the ground, splashing the draught of pink energon in all directions. The femme screamed and shrieked and struggled against the cable as Hook reeled her in, chuckling at his clever catch.

“Hook! Why'd you do that?!” Scrapper complained.

The crane just laughed and dangled her in front of himself to get a better look at her.

The others, having heard the noise and seen that something was going on, all ran over to see.

Mixmaster grabbed the wriggling little femme in his hands to hold her still, the tiny femme shrieking like a hinge in need of a serious oiling. “Listen to that voice,” he laughed. “She could peel the paint off your plating with that!”

“That is an amazing voice,” Bonecrusher agreed.

They could hear her fighting to transform, but she was too tightly restrained by Hook's cable. Scrapper stepped in and took her writhing form from Mixmaster. “Hey...easy there...easy little one. You'll strip your cogs down to nothing if you don't stop fighting it.” He held her against his chest, trying to soothe her, wrapping his arms gently around the little thing to immobilize even further.

Her screaming stopped but she continued to wriggle desperately in his arms.

“So why did you catch her,” Scrapper asked Hook. “She was just starting to get friendly.”

“Exactly. I thought it was about time to scan her for spyware. She might be working as an Autobot spy.”

“Her? Look at her. She's definitely an empty. No Autobot would get this worn and scraped up.”

“It could be a good disguise. Look, I'm just going to take her in, have Shockwave give her a thorough scan, and see if anything dangerous turns up. Chances are nothing will, in which case we'll just bring her right back here, or you can keep her as your little pet back at the base.”

At this the dirty pink bot whimpered. “Let me go!” she cried—the first words she'd spoken so far.

Scrapper's louvered air intakes fluttered on hearing her speak. She wasn't mute after all. He tried to calm her again. “Don't worry. If you are just an empty, you'll be just fine. No one will hurt you,” he assured her. And then he sighed and looked to the others. “Hook's right. It's best this way.” He held her up by her shoulders and looked at her diminutive frame. “Anyone got a pair of stasis cuffs? Or just one? I think one will be all we need.”

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Pet Canary" continues in Chapter 2: "Starscream Red"

-o-o-o-o-o-


	2. Starscream Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The captive Rosanna is taken to Shockwave for a security check, and on being pronounced clean, Scrapper takes her as his slave.

-o-o-o-o-o-

The mini-cassette spent the rest of the work shift wound up in Hook's cable, lashed unseemingly to his back as no one had anything else to restrain her with. At the end of their workday, they returned to Decepticon headquarters and Scrapper and Hook took her for a visit with Shockwave. A message had been sent on ahead that they were bringing home a captured empty for a security check.

The ever-wary Shockwave met them with several drones and escorted them to one of the security rooms. At which point Hook unspooled a bit more of his cable and placed her onto an interrogations table. Scrapper tried to calm her, and this time she listened as he insisted that she lie still.

Shockwave tugged a number of computer cables from the edges of the table and plugged her in, immediately beginning the invasive sweep of her processors and data banks and the memory tape all cassette-formers utilized. And when the scans were finished, Shockwave sighed as if he were disappointed to not have found anything. “It seems she is just an empty. There's nothing remarkable about her at all. Except for a complete set of R-1 Harmonics chips and the corresponding vocalizer. It seems you have yourselves a singer.”

“A singer?” Scrapper crouched a little to look at the cassette-former on the table. “You're a singer?” he asked her.

She nodded shyly.

“Well how come we haven't heard you singing?” Hook asked her.

“Her designation is Rosanna, and what I can find of her records links her to Altiron.”

“Rosanna? That's an odd name,” commented Scrapper.

“Indeed,” agreed Hook.

“Is that really your name?” Scrapper asked the little femme.

“Yes,” she said shyly.

Scrapper quickly turned to Shockwave. “Would you give me a slave license for her? Salvage rights? We found her in one of the junked buildings at the edge of the build site.”

“You want to keep her?” asked Shockwave, somewhat surprised. “She's just a mini-cassette. You'd probably be able to get a good price off of those Harmonics chips though. They're quite rare these days.”

Scrapper shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose. But I've grown a bit attached to her.”

“Fine. I'll issue one immediately.” He turned back to the computer console and within a few kliks he was filling out the legal paperwork required by the Decepticon bureaucracy. “The regulations for keeping slaves can be found in the central information core,” he told the Constructicons. “If you tire of her, I do know someone that might be interested in purchasing her, or at least her parts.” A ping from Scrapper's message box reported that a digital copy of the slave license had been sent to him.

Rosanna shuddered again and squirmed against the cables, her optics looking desperately to Scrapper.

Scrapper reached out and offered his hand protectively to her. “Don't worry. I'm not going to sell you for parts.”

“Thank you,” she squeaked, squirming toward the outstretched hand.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Hook and Scrapper took her back to the Constructicon base at the edge of Decepticon headquarters, the others gathering around to find out what had happened.

“How'd it go? I guess she's not a spy,” said Mixmaster, noting the tiny femme was still wound up in Hook's cable.

“Nope...clean circuits as far as Shockwave's concerned. We got a slave license for her own protection, so she belongs to us now.”

“Her name's Rosanna, and she's a singer,” informed Hook.

“A singer? Really?” asked Ironmonger, the hardware expert suddenly perking up. He moved closer to her. “Can you sing the Nineteen Virelais of Steelbar?”

“The what?” asked Bonecrusher.

Ironmonger sighed. “It's a set of songs from the Golden Age, by a composer named Steelbar.”

The mini-cassette nodded.

“I've not heard them in ages, and I haven't been able to find any recordings of them. So much was lost during the war.”

“She's got a full set of R1 Harmonics chips and the matching vocalizer, according to Shockwave. I don't think there's anything out there she couldn't sing,” said Scrapper.

“Would you sing them for me?” asked Ironmonger. His usual cold, all-business demeanor had been withered by the prospect of recapturing something beautiful he remembered from his youth.

“First though,” broke in Scrapper, “since we're keeping her, lets get her cleaned up, repaired, and fueled.”

“More easily done if she's unconscious,” stated Hook, and the others agreed.

At this, Rosanna cried out, but there was no sympathy as Hook silenced her protest.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Although they should have been resting, most of the Constructicons spent their entire recharge period seeing to Rosanna's frame.

They carefully removed her plating and gave it to Hook, who meticulously worked over the pieces, removing every dent and imperfection. Mixmaster and Scrapper gently gave Rosanna's protoform a soapy scrubbing, a solvent dip, and a thorough steam cleaning, blasting away vorns of dirt that had accumulated on her internals. Ironmonger set about repairing the broken servos in her arm and the rusted cabling in in her neck. Even Long Haul wanted to help, and he was given the task of repainting her plating once Hook had deemed it passable. Scavenger came back with a slave-bolt and Hook carefully attached it to her hips. She would be able to walk about and transform, but would not be able to run away. If she moved beyond the pre-set distance, an immobilizer mechanism would lock her into place.

When finished, they were all stunned at the results. The dirty pink had become bright pink and white. Two love-marks decorated her shoulder. Her optics had been polished, bringing her visor to a high shine after ages of pitting by the dust-storms and the occasional acidic rain on Cybertron. Her eyewash was refilled, the dust level inside of the reservoir indicating that she had been tear-less for a long, long time. The removal of her mask, which they'd detached to give to Hook, had revealed a pair of perfectly formed, highly articulated lips, which now sported a coat of glossy red paint. “Starscream Red,” laughed Mixmaster at Long Haul's choice of color. “Something you're not telling us, Long Haul?” The dump truck answered with a punch thrown at the cement mixer.

“She's such a treasure,” sighed Scavenger, running his fingers over one of her tiny feet and picking up one of her hands. “I thought she was beautiful before, but now look at her.”

“Think she'll sing for us now?” Ironmonger wondered aloud.

“It will be up to her, I guess,” was Scrapper's answer.

“Shall we bring her on-line?”

“Is the slave-bolt operational?” Gravedigger asked.

“Operational and the control mechanism has been housed in Scrapper's right foot,” replied Hook.

“Wake her up, already,” rumbled Bonecrusher impatiently, who'd come out of recharge and was marveling almost excitedly at the marked improvement in the appearance of the femme.

The eight Constructicons stilled themselves as Scrapper plugged her processors back in, one by one, and the tiny thing shuddered to life again.

She found herself lying atop their worktable, surrounded by the faces of the construction team. Frightened, she scrabbled back, only to find herself bumping into Scrapper. She looked up at him, and he smiled down at her. “It's okay, little one. You're safe.”

“You...you're going to...” she stuttered.

“We did,” Hook interrupted. “ And we're done. You're like a new creation now.”

Mixmaster popped off one of his vehicular mode's side view mirrors and handed it to her.

Rosanna looked at herself in the mirror, at first gasping, and then panicking, and then smiling in amazement. “I'm beautiful again!” she finally exclaimed, angling the mirror to see herself from every angle possible.

“Yes, you are. We put a lot of work into cleaning you up.”

She stood and continued to admire herself, giggling and chirping and turning about. She tested her right arm, which now had full movement. And then she stopped, turned to Scrapper, and took a few steps toward him. “Thank you. Thank you for repairing and repainting me.”

Scrapper beamed. “We all worked on you...well, most of us did. And just so you know, you have a slave-bolt inside of you. It won't prevent transformation, but it will keep you within range. So there's no running away.”

Her optics darkened.

“Sorry. But, you're better off with us than you were as an empty. You'll be looked after and fed and taken care of.”

“You're not going to sell me?” she asked with some uncertainty.

“Unless you give us a reason to,” chortled Mixmaster.

-o-o-o-o-o-

The Constructicons went back to work a few cycles later, taking Rosanna with them. Shockwave's latest project was nearing completion. 

And halfway through the day, they heard a noise drifting over the worksite. They paused, finding the noise to be music of all things...a sound that had died on Cybertron long ago. Listening, Ironmonger suddenly blurted out from his worktable. “The Thirteenth Virelai of Steelbar!” he cried out excitedly.

The Constructicons flocked to Rosanna, who stood at the middle of the new building, her mask retracted and the resurrected sounds pouring from her red lips.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Pet Canary" continues in Chapter 3: “Back to Earth”

-o-o-o-o-o-


	3. Back to Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Constructicons are sent to Earth to build a base for the Combaticons... where Soundwave takes notice of the pink cassetticon. Scrapper is not pleased.

-o-o-o-o-o-

After Shockwave's project list on Cybertron was complete, the faceless mech told them that Megatron was expecting their return to Earth. “He wants a new base for the Combaticons. They've chosen a location and are beginning to amass supplies there.”

“How do they know what we'll need?” huffed Hook indignantly. “We've not even surveyed the site yet.”

“Since when have you not needed steel and concrete to build a base on Earth?” Long Haul countered.

Scavenger was excited at the prospect of returning to the watery planet. “I can't wait. I like Earth. They have so many interesting things there. Beautiful things.”

“What's Earth like?” asked Rosanna, suddenly popping out of the holster on Scrapper's leg. They had welded a pocket of stiff metal straps there for her cassette mode to slip into, the construct ingeniously rotating so she could remain even when Scrapper was in vehicle mode. Though he always insisted that she was property of the gestalt as a whole, it was obvious that she was his pet. During rest she either 'docked' in his cab or in the holster, and while she sang for everyone, her few words were usually reserved for their leader.

Scavenger dropped to his knees before her. “It's a beautiful place...so much to see. I find lots of interesting things there.”

“Do they have music there?” she asked innocently.

“I think so,” said the power shovel. It was never something he'd paid much attention to before.

And so the eight packed their things and headed for Earth once again. The chosen site for the Combaticon base was a small low island surrounded by jagged reefs of coral and rock. On arriving there, they found all was in readiness for the build to begin. Piles of materials awaited. While the others surveyed and began leveling the site, Scrapper went immediately to work, designing a base for the unruly bunch. Rosanna sat at the corner of his drawing board, singing away happily. 

-o-o-o-o-o-

It began the day Megatron, Starscream, and Soundwave came out to inspect the construction progress on the new base. Hook had been chosen to guide the Decepticon big three about the jobsite so that the others could make a good show of 'looking busy.' Scrapper and Long Haul were erecting the walls within the main hanger while Rosanna sat nearby, warbling her songs to her heart's content. She'd quickly fallen in love with the music of the alien planet, and had been exploring it non-stop, from trendy pop tunes to medieval ballads to religious hymns to primitive medicine chants. All of her waking hours were set to the sound of her voice.

When the touring party rounded the corner of the main hangar building, Rosanna's voice suddenly hitched, wavered uncharacteristically, and then came back with an even fuller enthusiasm and power. Puzzled, Scrapper looked about to see the four mechs standing there, Hook going on in uncomfortably uninteresting detail about the joists being used and how effective and sturdy they were for this sort of structure in this particular environment. And that was when Scrapper, working close by her post, realized what had caught her attention.

She was staring at Soundwave, and he was staring right back at her.

In fact all three of the Decepticon leaders were staring, and Hook was looking a little exasperated at having lost their attention.

“Who's that?” asked Megatron with a gesture at the pink mini-cassette.

“Oh, just some empty we found on Cybertron. She's got a nice voice and takes nothing to fuel, so we...we kept her,” Hook explained with a clear twinge of embarrassment in his voice. “She cleared all the security checks if that's what you're worried about.”

Rosanna bowed to the three towering mechs, but her singing did not cease.

“Rosanna, please. I'm trying to give a tour here. This is important,” grouched Hook, gesturing for her to cut the noise.

The femme immediately ceased her singing and her mask snapped back over her mouth. Obviously sulking, she transformed into her cassette mode and fell to the ground beside the Constructicon leader.

Scrapper transformed and reached for her, intending to stow her away in the holster, but before he could pick her up, a blue hand in a silver cuff had closed around her, lifting her up to eye-level. The red visor scrutinized the mini-cassette closely while Hook went on about the integral cabling system running through the floor. It was obvious though that Megatron and Starscream were more interested with the communications officer's appraisal of the cassette—not that it took much to distract them from the crane's single-mindedness.

Scrapper however was not interested. He was concerned. Soundwave had his own brood of cassettes. This one was his. He held his hands up to Soundwave and tried not to look too impatient.

The blue mech placed the cassette into Scrapper's hands, where he immediately tucked her into the holster on his leg, breathing a little sigh of relief.

Hook, feeling the mild distress coming through Hook's side of the bond, led his tour group onward to where Mixmaster and Gravedigger were at work. And as they left, Rosanna pushed her way out of the holster and transformed again, watching the communications officer walk away.

Noticing the rapt look on the mini-cassette's face, Scrapper knew that he had to put a stop to this before it even got started. “Rosanna. Don't. You don't want to dock with him,” he said in a cautioning tone.

“But he's a cassette carrier. I belong with a carrier of that type. Maybe I could dock with him? For a little while?”

“Don't get involved with him. He's...dangerous.”

“But...he looked at me. He picked me up.” She seemed oblivious to her keeper's worry.

“Yes. And that was all he wanted. Just to look at you. He's already carrying five cassettes—a full complement. He doesn't want you.” She was acting like a naïve child.

“Five? Oh...”

As much as he wanted her to be happy, Scrapper was glad to hear that bit of dejection in her voice. She was happy with them.

-o-o-o-o-o-

The base for the Combaticons was nearly ready when the same three came again for a final inspection, this time with the Combaticons themselves in tow.

The eight Constructicons were already feeling the pride of another job well done. The final touches were all that remained—furniture, hardware, turning on the power and water permanently, a bit of painting, marking the runways and landing areas. There was one main building, and each of the five Combaticons had a private hangar or garage. As a nod to the rest of the faction, there were guest berths in the main building.

As for Rosanna, the completion of the base meant little to her. She had recently discovered an Earthian form of musical theater, and had immersed herself in it. Currently she was chirping her way through something she referred to as “La Traviata” and loving it, and that's what she was singing as the other Decepticons arrived. “~Alfredo, Alfredo, di questo core...non puoi comprendere tutto l'amore,~” she sang from the loft in the main building, her voice falling like a calming mist about the main hangar. Immediately Soundwave left the party and sought out the warbling mini-cassette.

Megatron and the Combaticons were holding Scrapper captive with questions at the table where the blueprint screens were spread out for reference; he was helpless to intervene and pull Rosanna away. He knew it wasn't their fault that they were drawn to each other. At the very root of their programming was the concept that mini-cassettes were symbiotic with his frame-type.

But no. Not him. He'd tolerate another carrier mech perhaps, but not this one. Soundwave was cold and unfeeling. He might appreciate her vocal talents but would shun her gentle disposition and charming feminine personality—that which made her so attractive and pleasant to be around. Soundwave would corrupt her to his own purposes—turn her into a nasty little spy or a quarter-sized warrior like his own cassettes.

Besides, Rosanna belonged to the Constructicons. To them. His team had found her...fed her...restored her to full working order. He had the slave license with her name and serial number upon it to prove their ownership.

When her song finished, she changed her tune to something that sounded suspiciously like a love song, the crooning notes of which echoed off the bare walls of the main hangar.

Scrapper clenched his fist, hoping the others didn't notice the worry in his voice. He sent an exasperated and worried message to his gestalt mates. ::Someone get Rosanna away from Soundwave. Anyone? Or vice-versa. I don't like the way he's eyeing her. I have to give buckethead and the kill-squad a tour.::

Immediately Scavenger and Hook sauntered over to the communications officer and insisted with seeming sincerity that he inspect the communications system they had installed in the west tower. To Scrapper's relief, Rosanna's singing stopped as they led Soundwave away, and she dropped down disappointedly into her cassette mode.

With a relieved look on his face, Scrapper led the group out to look around the rest of the new base, a look that later became a smug grin when through the security cameras he saw a rather frustrated-looking Soundwave trapped in the west tower.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Pet Canary" continues in Chapter 4: "Not for Sale"

-o-o-o-o-o-


	4. Not For Sale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumble and Frenzy are sent to purchase Rosanna from Scrapper. Not for themselves, they claim, but for Soundwave. Later, the rest of the Decepticons on Earth get a good look at the cassette-former when she entertains at the opening party for the Combaticon base.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Scrapper lay on his back on the loft level of the main hangar. Rosanna stood atop his chest, again singing. She filled their days with music where once there had only been the sound of labor.

Hook was at a table nearby going over the schematics for a new space bridge terminal, the next project Megatron had on his list. Scrapper had already designed the terminal, an improved version of the previous one, and while he was confident in the remodeling, he always set his plans before Hook for a final review. The crane, a master craftsman, sometimes had valuable insight and experience to share. When he reviewed Scrapper's blueprints, he was actually building them in his mind, envisioning the entire construction process.

So while Hook went through his visualization, Scrapper watched Rosanna's performance, feeling her music reverberate inside his chest, her voice sending a pleasant charge through his sensor net. It was a feeling of borderline inebriation. How could he have not enjoyed music before she'd opened their ears to it? It had brought this delightful background to his life. When she sang happily, his spark spun in its chamber. When she sang laments, he felt depressed. When she simply hummed, he felt at peace with himself.

“~They always said that you knew best, but this little bird's fallen out of that nest now~,” came the words of her current selection, something upbeat from Earth. Her arms gestured along with the lyrics and her hips shifted along with the beat of the music she was somehow able to generate as accompaniment.

After a while, Hook called Scrapper over with a few more questions. 

“Sorry sweetie,” Scrapper apologized to the miniature diva. He lifted her from his chest, placed her on a table, and left her behind to join his teammate.

They hadn't been discussing the plans for long when the sound of small jets picked up their heads. Rumble and Frenzy landed just inside the main hangar and swaggered up to the loft. Passing the table where Rosanna now sat with Mixmaster's mirror in hand checking her appearance, they waved at her. She gave a small wave back at them, watching closely, obviously interested in seeing others of her kind.

“Scrapper,” Frenzy began. “Have a moment?”

Though he really wasn't interested in whatever these two had to talk about, he didn't have a good enough excuse to blow them off. “Yes? What do you two want?”

“Mind if we sit down?”

Scrapper would have raised an eyebrow if he had one to raise.

They moved over to the area of lounging chairs grouped casually about a viewscreen and a table—what was to pass for a rec-room for the Combaticons. Rumble pulled five small sized cubes of high-grade out of subspace, giving one to each robot there, including Rosanna, who had put her mirror away and joined the others. Rumble smiled at her as she took it and drank.

Scrapper was suspicious. The twin cassette-formers were not known for their hospitality, nor their generosity. And he called them on it after they'd all drunk. “So, what do you two want?”

“How much to buy your pet canary?” asked Frenzy, a finger pointed in Rosanna's direction.

Rosanna gasped.

Scrapper had steeled himself, suspecting that Rosanna might be the topic at hand, but he still could not help but feel indignant at hearing the words actually come from the little slagger's mouth. “She's not for sale. And even if she were, I wouldn't sell her to you.”

“Not for us.” Frenzy looked almost embarrassed. “Soundwave sent us over here to negotiate. He wants her.”

A tiny electronic chirp—not a gasp, but something with an almost pleasant ring to it—escaped Rosanna's vocalizer.

“I'm not selling her. She's property of the Constructicons. She's part of our team now.”

The twins looked at each other, and then burst out laughing. “Part of your team?! What part of Devastator does she form?” 

“How come she's not green and purple like the rest of you?”

“Or were you all going to paint yourselves pink and white?”

The pair continued to laugh, until Frenzy pulled out another round of high-grade cubes for everyone. “C'mon. He just wants to buy your little pet. He thinks he can do some big things with her sonics.”

“What part of 'not for sale' aren't you understanding?” Scrapper asked angrily.

“Look, have some more high-grade. Let's discuss this.”

“~Don't forget the best advice—everybody's got a price~,” rhymed Rumble with a bit of song in his tone, and then picked up two of the cubes. Smiling, he handed one to Rosanna. 

Scrapper took the draught from her before she could even break the seal. “You can have it later,” he said, eliciting a pout from her. “I didn't say no. I just said later,” he assured in response to her pout. She became overcharged all too easily, what with her tiny size and vorns of near starvation having affected her energon processors.

“So Scrapper. How about it?” Frenzy asked. 

Scrapper scowled, and the deliberations went on. The two Cassetticons left empty handed, Scrapper's price apparently not having been found.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Though no one really liked the Combaticons, the announcement that Mixmaster would be serving the drinks attracted a large number of the Decepticons to the inaugural party for the new base. The chemist wouldn't just refine it into a higher grade; there would be...contaminants.

The party-goers mingled happily and worked themselves into a blissful state on the tainted energon Mixmaster poured out into a punchbowl...a punchbowl that looked suspiciously like Megatron's overturned helm. A few had already hit a level of electron intoxication that left them unable to stand and they'd been dragged outside of the main hangar.

Rosanna used the party as an opportunity to show off her voice, singing from atop the makeshift stage Long Haul had put together for her. She had pulled a microphone out of her frame, connected it to the intrabase communications system, and suddenly her music could be heard across the island. Her cheerful pop-tunes and slow courting songs filled the once placid outpost with music.

Word of the Constructicons' singing mini-cassette had gone about the ranks, and it seemed that a number of the party-goers had come to watch her perform, or perhaps just to see a femme. And having a larger than usual audience excited Rosanna. She danced on her stage and sang to the crowd, an innocent flirtation being carried on with some of the more appreciative members of her audience. Sometimes she'd get the party-goers bouncing with an upbeat, catchy tune. Sometimes she'd have them swaying and singing along. Once she even got Starscream to start dancing, something no one present could ever remember seeing him do before.

Scrapper smiled proudly at her performance. In their care she'd gone from a nervous scavenging empty to a darling little femme with a real talent. Yes, it was a talent that wouldn't really serve the Decepticon purpose, but at least she seemed to be a real morale booster. His team worked better, more peaceably, with her in their midst. Her voice even seemed to soothe the more violent and edgy in the Decepticon ranks. Vortex, well known as a violent and edgy type, was leaning against the stage and watching the party, his battle-mask pulled down to reveal a genuine smile.

And on studying Vortex, Scrapper noticed something that made him tense. Near the stage were Rumble and Frenzy, leaning drunkenly against each other, and watching Rosanna with considerable intent, more intent than was called for. He didn't mind the other mechs staring at her, but ever since she'd laid optics on Soundwave, the communications officer and his diminutive brood had unnerved him.

Scrapper tensed, debating on pulling the two away with some other distraction, but a distraction wouldn't keep them away through the night. Soundwave understood subtleties. The twins did not. He quickly composed an anonymous message to the leering Cassetticons like any protective father would. ::Rosanna is under the ever-vigilant and somewhat jealous protection of the Constructicons. Keep that in your processors.::

He moved away to where they couldn't see him before sending it out. It didn't matter who sent it, so long as they received and heeded it. 

And then he came to a small realization. The word he'd used. Jealous. It had not been any exaggeration. He was jealous—envious that Soundwave had a proper dock for her kind instead of the flimsy holster of metal straps that had been welded to his leg. Envious that she wanted to be with Soundwave's type, that she preferred a carrier mech over another frame.

Scrapper tensed. He'd never thought of himself as the jealous sort. Perhaps it was one of those personality shifts that sometimes happened to older mechs. Or perhaps it was just her. Rosanna was young by comparison to them, but she was certainly no sparkling despite her small size and innocent demeanor. She'd obviously been taking care of herself for quite a while before his team had found her. It was just something about her that triggered some need to look out for her.

He went over to the bar Mixmaster had set up. The chemist had enlisted the aid of the meticulously precise Hook to pour contents into his mixing drum and then dish them back out. “Hey, Scrapper. You've not been drinking enough tonight,” said the engineer.

“The cassette twins had their eyes on Rosanna. Maybe we shouldn't have fixed her plating up so nicely. Hook, you saw how much Rumble kept looking at her when they were trying to buy her for Soundwave.”

“Eh, she'd be attractive no matter what color we painted her,” decided Hook.

“If you like your femmes on the blocky side,” was Mixmaster's snarky reply, the chemist's drum shaking in laughter. Its contents sloshed in glee. True, she wasn't the lithe, curved-plated feminine ideal. But she was lovely anyway, and there was a certain cuteness to her broad shoulders and boxy lower legs. She'd spent a lot of time before the party making sure her paint job was in perfect shape and that the chrome detailing on her chest and crotch were polished to a mirror-like shine.

“Perhaps we should have at least painted her to match us. Then they'd be a little more wary of her,” Scrapper wondered aloud. The thought had been in his processor since Rumble and Frenzy's visit as well.

Mixmaster laughed and just churned the latest batch of ingredients in his drum. “Stop worrying so much about her. She'll be just fine. And if you can't stop worrying about her, then why don't you just sell her like Bonecrusher suggested in the first place.”

Scrapper glared.

The chemist only chuckled. “I'm just kidding. I like her around too. Besides, she really knows how to entertain,” he said as he nodded to the area in front of the stage. Rosanna had the crowd bouncing again, this time to an Earthian pop tune. “When this war's over I think I'll open a bar and have her there to draw in the customers.” 

“~Making my connection as I enter the room. Everybody's chilling as I set up the groove,~” she sang into her microphone, her free hand dancing above her head.

“And just so you know, Soundwave is here. But he's been keeping to himself.” With a twitch of his head, Hook indicated the loft.

Scrapper looked up to see the communications officer on the upper balcony sitting in the lounge area. Soundwave, predictably, had taken a seat where he could view the stage. Laserbeak perched on the railing watching all.

The front end loader's hand clenched and he turned back to the bar. Mixmaster was now emptying some the contents of his drum into a cup formed from one of those metal barrels the Earthlings used for large amounts of liquids. “Here, Boss. Just for you. Relax a little.” Hook handed the cup to him.

Scrapper sighed, pulled down his mask, and drank. The chemist was right. He hadn't been drinking enough. He should stop caring so much.

And he tried not to care when Soundwave suddenly shifted his focus to him for a moment, the red visor glaring down with what could only be equally jealous intent.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Pet Canary" continues in Chapter 5: Sonus

-o-o-o-o-o-


	5. Sonus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as Scrapper makes an important realization about his pet, Soundwave arrives and makes him an offer he can't refuse. Literally.

-o-o-o-o-o-

In their common room Scrapper sat at the main table, his elbows on the table-top, head in hands, optics offline, listening to Rosanna sing an aria from some Earthian opera. Her voice echoed throughout the room, the bright sound resonating within his chest and teasing his spark. Gravedigger and Scavenger sat with him, also held captive by the bewitching perfection of the mini-cassette's voice. Relaxing in the bliss of her music had become a favorite way to wind down after a day out at the space bridge site. A base for the Combaticons was one thing. A space bridge involved so much more precision and Hook was wearing them all out with his nervous supervision of the current stage of construction.

“~Vo'andare in Porta Rossa a comperar l'anello,~” she sang, the notes echoing though the spacious room. When they'd first encountered her, none of them, save for Ironmonger, had cared much for music of any sort, Cybertronian or Earthian or otherwise. But her angelic warbling had turned them all into fans.

The elevator door slid open and Dirge and Soundwave entered, both pausing to listen to Rosanna's voice as it filled the room and bounced off of the metal ceiling. And on spotting the brightly painted pink and white femme atop the table, her mask open and her voice spilling from red-painted lips, the two moved closer.

The three Constructions at the table looked up at their approach, but Soundwave held up his hand for silence before they could even speak. Inside, Scrapper was growling and hoping that the visit would be brief. It chilled him even more when Rosanna turned toward Soundwave, her optics brightening, and she appeared to be singing to him. “~Sì, sì, ci voglio andare! E se l'amassi indarno...~”

::Not. For. Sale.:: went the message to Soundwave.

The communications officer shot Scrapper an indignant glance, his red visor dimming.

And when her song finished, the blue mech applauded politely, his head inclined at a slight tilt.

“May I sing something else for you?” Rosanna asked him excitedly.

Scrapper's energon tank churned. How could she be so interested in him? Simply because he was a carrier mech for her kind?

“Landslide: Battle Hymn for Altiron,” droned Soundwave.

Her optics flashed brightly at the request. She opened her glossy lips and began to sing again, her voice surrounding them with the strong, emotional notes of the piece, a song that had been long forgotten after the fall of that State, but apparently not by Soundwave. And the cold mech was much moved by her rendition of the piece. To the surprise of the three at the table, the impossible happened halfway through. A tear appeared at each end of his visor and dripped down his faceplate into his mask. The rumor that the communications officer didn't even have washer ducts was apparently just that. A rumor.

Rosanna fell to her knees for the final verse of the song, her voice tremulous with emotion at the vivid lyrics, lyrics that seemed to fortell the end of the city's glory. The five mechs watching all felt the wrenching irony and sorrow in the music pouring out of the little femme.

Scrapper reached into a pocket for a towel—the tears were coming. He wasn't alone though. The others had all joined Soundwave in his lament.

Suddenly, Scrapper startled himself with a dawning realization about her. How could she do this to them? It was as if she could control their emotional state with her voice. And she'd been doing it all along, from the first moment she'd opened her mouth and music had rolled out. Was this some power granted by the complete set of R-1 Harmonics vocal equipment?

That impossible thing with Soundwave happened again as the song ended on one long, drawn out note. Even Dirge seemed moved though he was doing his best to hide it. Scavenger on the other hand wasn't trying to hide it at all. Tears ran in a steady stream from his optics, and he pulled out a towel and pulled out his mouthpiece and wiped his wet face.

Rosanna sagged to the tabletop, worn from her performance. Scrapper immediately withdrew a small-sized energon ration from his subspace and handed it to her. “That was beautiful Rosanna,” he praised. “I love your voice so much.” With Soundwave so close, he needed to get her to focus on himself.

She drank it gratefully, giving Scrapper a grateful smile at his compliment. Performances like that could be exhausting when she poured so much of herself into them.

“Yes,” commented Soundwave. “Superior.”

Rosanna turned quickly to him on hearing the carrier mech's positive verdict. “Thank you,” she choked, her eyes alight with admiration.

And then to Scrapper's horror, Soundwave pressed the button that manually opened his chest panel to receive a mini-cassette.

“No!” Scrapper gasped, standing so abruptly that he accidentally scattered the stack of data-pads beside him.

Rosanna looked back at the front-end loader for a moment, her visor darkening and her expression looking both guilty and apologetic. And then she launched herself at Soundwave, transforming as she went and docking in his chest.

“Rosanna! No!” Scrapper cried out as Soundwave's twin spindles rose into the engagement holes in her body, the cogs of both interlocking almost seamlessly.

The large blue mech chortled musically as he closed his chestplate, a dramatic click finalizing the transfer. “Mine,” he announced.

“No! She's not yours!” snapped Scrapper defiantly. “We found her and fixed her up and took care of her! We've got the property license for her.”

“Compensation has been provided.”

A ping in his internal communications receiver indicated a new message, and the title announced that credits had been deposited into his account. “I don't want your money!” Scrapper fumed. “You can't just take her like that!”

There came another click as the capstans engaged. Scrapper looked on in horror as her cassette wheels began to spin, a joyful song beginning to play quietly. He recognized it immediately as her 'happy song,' a recording of her own voice that she played to herself when she felt pleased.

“Incorrect. Rosanna has been bought.”

Scrapper stamped his foot angrily. “Well I'm buying her back!” He tried to refuse the transfer of credits but soon found he could not.

“~Life is just a little song to sing, when all the world is new. Love will make my life a chansonette~” trilled Rosanna's voice through Soundwave's speakers, their volume set low.

After repeated futile tries to cancel the transaction, he finally cursed the Decepticon third-in-command. “Dammit Soundwave! Take your fraggin' credits back! She's mine and you can't just take her like this!”

The carrier mech stood unphased “The transfer was made willingly,” he rumbled smugly and walked back toward the elevator. His left hand flattened over the transparent chestplate.

Scrapper would have followed and would have yanked open Soundwave's chest and prised the femme from her new berth, had it not been for Dirge placing a hand against the front of his frame and Scavenger and Gravedigger holding him from behind. “Rosanna!” he cried as Soundwave stepped into the elevator and the door closed behind him.

The others now let go of Scrapper and he fell to his knees, his whole frame shaking with silent lamentation.

Dirge looked awkard for a moment, but then drew himself up as if the whole confrontation had never happened. “Anyway, we were sent down here to tell you that Megatron is pleased with your progress on the space bridge terminal. He'd like you to begin plans for another at a location to be specified.”

Hook, having felt the first twinges of distress through the gestalt bond and appearing in time to watch the whole scene, stepped forward in Scrapper's place. “Tell Lord Megatron it shall be as he commands.” He looked down at the sobbing Scrapper, who had now fallen forward onto his elbows and was shedding noiseless tears of loss.

Dirge looked down as well and coughed in disgust. “What's his deal? She was just a cassette-former slave. They're not exactly rare. Okay, sure she sang pretty, but really?”

“We'll get him another pet,” Hook said placatingly. “He'll be happy then.”

“You should steal one of Blaster's,” the seeker suggested wickedly. “Then he could have a nice little Autobot pet.”

“I'm sure he'd be happy with that,” Hook agreed.

Dirge cast another disgusted look at the tormented mech before turning to go without so much as a goodbye. And as soon as the elevator had whisked him away, the three other Constructicons fell to their knees to surround Scrapper, holding their distraught leader comfortingly. No words were spoken as they clung together in a group for a while, the four other Constructicons drifting in on feeling the pain trickle the distance through their gestalt bond.

But there was nothing they could do. She'd not been taken by force—she'd leapt all too willingly into Soundwave's docking module. Her loss had been compensated monetarily at thrice the going rate for a mini-cassette slave. Appealing to Starscream or Megatron was more likely to garner a derisive laugh rather than any sympathy.

They dragged Scrapper off to his berth and tucked him into it, trying to soothe him with comforting words over the loss of the beloved little femme. They didn't need to remind him that this had been a possible outcome—they'd known it from the moment they'd brought the mini-cassette to Earth.

“But she didn't have to go with him. I could have gotten myself modified. I could have carried her...in a real dock...not just a holster,” he wailed. “Hook, you could have built one for me, right? Then she wouldn't long for his.”

The others all looked at each other. Theoretically he was right. He could have had a single cassette dock built into where the holster was. Lopsidedness be damned.

In practice though? No such thing would ever happen. If she were properly docking, that meant a cognitive connection would form between her and Scrapper, and thus the rest of the gestalt. How would that affect Devastator? Her inclusion would most likely compromise the combiner's performance or psyche. She was a pacifist and a peacemaker, the exact opposite of everything Devastator stood for. The great warrior could be neutralized by one tiny chirping songbird.

The caring hands of his teammates still upon him, Scrapper eventually fell into recharge, hoping to never wake again. He would be there if they needed him, but otherwise he didn't want to live without her...without the tiny chanteuse he'd hoped to take as his own symbiote.

Perhaps she'd already neutralized him too.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Pet Canary" continues in Chapter 6: Rosanna the Decepticon

-o-o-o-o-o-


	6. Rosanna the Decepticon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a battle against the Autobots begins to turn for the worse, Soundwave ejects his newest weapon.

“Soundwave! We need some crowd control! Immediately!” Megatron bellowed. Though it was just one of their typical power-plant raids, things had gone terribly wrong. The Autobots had shown up with double their usual numbers.

The communications officer nodded and touched the manual release for his chestplate. “Rosanna. Eject.”

Megatron's head snapped over as the pink and white cassette-former launched from Soundwave's dock, giggling and transforming as she went, pirouetting upon landing, and stopping in a girlish pose with the first two fingers on her right hand extending V-like from her fist.

The Decepticon commander felt his spark flicker out for a moment. This couldn't be happening. He had known that Soundwave had acquired the mini-cassette from the Constructicons, but had assumed that it was for personal reasons. And when the communications officer had asked that Rosanna be allowed to join the faction, he assumed that it was for the additional energon ration. But never had he thought that Soundwave would be bringing the foolish little thing out in battle. And as she stood there beaming he wasn't sure whether to scream at Soundwave, to simply scream in shock, to wait for Rumble or Frenzy to emerge, to wait for the approaching Autobots to laugh themselves into stasis over what the mighty Decepticons were throwing at them, or to keel over with incredulous laughter himself.

“Frenzy. Eject.”

The red and black Cassetticon burst out and landed beside Rosanna, and Megatron allowed himself a sigh of relief. Maybe Soundwave had just called the wrong name. He had been spending a lot of time with the tiny femme of late.

“Rosanna. Adagio. Frenzy. Amplify,” Soundwave commanded.

Rosanna's microphone dropped from its cradle inside her arm as her mask slid away to reveal her mouth.

Megatron slapped his hand over his face. Soundwave was going to use the stupid little fluffball femme. After all these years the mech was losing it. This was going to be the humiliating defeat to top them all—all of their far-fetched plans on Earth now seemed like sanity compared to this.

Rosanna brought her microphone to her red lips and began to sing, her voice rolling forth and resonating from the speakers in Frenzy's chest and Soundwave's legs. The switchyard of the power-plant filled with music and all of the combatants turned to look.

And to Megatron's surprise, the song was not the prelude to an embarrassing retreat. Most of the fighting ceased—Autobots and Decepticons alike pausing the watch Rosanna perform. The seekers and jets in the air, confused by the sudden silence of the battle, landed and watched as well. Some even sat down. Some crept forward to be closer to the source of the music.

Megatron stared in disbelief. The tiny pink mini-cassette had stopped the battle with one stanza of the slow, waltzing song she sang.

Those that were unaffected were looking about in worry and confusion at the others, shrugging their shoulders and jostling their comrades. Soundwave, apparently expecting this result, began categorizing the enemy force by how they were affected. Optimus Prime: immune. Prowl: resistant. Jazz: immune. Gears: compromised. Sunstreaker: compromised. Sideswipe: compromised. Bluestreak: borderline. Trailbreaker: compromised. Brawn: compromised. Powerglide: immune. His list went on...

Megatron seized the moment and addressed those in his force who had proved immune. “Hook! Blitzwing! Swindle! Ramjet! Continue to fill the energon cubes and load them for transport!” he barked.

A disbelieving Optimus Prime was shaking Ironhide by the shoulder. “Snap out of it, Ironhide! You're in the middle of a battle!”

Ironhide just batted Optimus' hand away. “Hey, quit interrupting. I'm listening to that pretty little femme sing. Ain't she something?”

Optimus looked at Jazz who had come up beside him. “What in Primus' name is this? They've almost all stopped fighting. Even the Decepticons.” He stepped over to Scavenger and waved his hand in front of the Constructicon's face. The power-shovel stepped to the side and kept listening, completely unconcerned that the Autobot leader was standing right there. “Scavenger, who is that?” Optimus demanded, pointing at the Decepticon he'd never seen before.

Scavenger lolled his head slightly to the side. “That's Rosanna. She was the boss' pet, but now she belongs to Soundwave.”

“Rosanna?”

“Yeah.”

“Strange designation.” He scanned the list of known Decepticons in his informational banks and her name did not appear.

Optimus tried to ask more questions but Scavenger just shushed him in annoyance and moved away. Optimus turned toward Skywarp, who was standing with his arm around Starscream, the two of them swaying slightly in time to the music. When he stepped in front of them, they just glared and craned to look around him. “Do you mind!?” hissed the air commander, obviously irritated at the interruption.

Optimus turned back to Jazz. “See?”

“Some kind of musical hypnosis, I'd say. I've not seen the Decepticons ever use it before though.”

“They've got a new recruit I guess—that little pink cassette-former. Think you can counteract her voice?”

“I'd love to try,” smirked Jazz wickedly. He dropped into his alt-mode and swung out his massive speakers, immediately cranking out his loud, flashing, sonic attack. And his high-decibel assault seemed to break the trance of the troops, all coming to a groggy awareness that they were supposed to be fighting.

Soundwave reacted on seeing Rosanna's spell broken by the black and white mech. “Rosanna. White Noise. Single target.” 

The femme changed her tune and Frenzy aimed his output right at the Autobot third-in-command. Jazz's noise suddenly fell flat, becoming nothing more than a few disharmonic chords and broken warbles.

The fighting was starting up again as everyone shook off the effects of the hypnosis.

“Prime! That femme's canceling me out!” Jazz reported.

“Try increasing power.”

“I have been!” And Jazz continued to do so, pouring every bit of his will and strength into his speakers, but Rosanna managed to match him at every increase. “I'm giving it all I've got, Prime, but she's really good.”

Suddenly there was an earsplitting crack as if lighting had struck him and Jazz's right speaker exploded in a shower of sparks and puff of white smoke. The Porsche groaned and slumped on his wheels. “Sorry, Prime,” he apologized in a pained tone. “Ouch... that hurt...”

Soundwave was now gloating. “Rosanna, resume Adagio.”

She stretched a moment and began her first song anew, and the result was the same. The combat ceased as the soldiers all turned to watch her. The unaffected Decepticons went back to gathering energon.

Optimus looked over to where Bluestreak was throwing punches at the Decepticons in the audience, who were pretty much just dodging and stepping away and telling him to simmer down. “Bluestreak!” Optimus called to him. “We need your sharpshooting skills. Take out that singer!”

“You got it, Prime!” Bluestreak moved to where he could get a clear shot at her and leveled his sniper rifle.

Optimus moved over next to him and watched him focus on the cassette-former. “Fire when you have her targeted.”

“I've got her targeted. You know, she's got these two little red hearts up on her shoulder. It's kinda cute.”

Optimus looked down at the Praxian and noted the little smile on the gunner's face. “I said fire when you have her targeted,” he said more firmly.

Bluestreak hesitated. “Aww, Prime. I'm sorry but I can't. She's just...well, so sweet and lovable. I mean, how could I shoot someone with hearts painted on their armor?”

Optimus groaned disgustedly. Bluestreak had been affected too, though to a lesser degree. “Well then take out Frenzy, or Soundwave, or both. No one's painted hearts on them,” he huffed pointedly.

“Gladly.” He shifted the rifle just a hair and fired. Frenzy went down with a scream. Rosanna gasped but continued.

Another dead-on shot from Bluestreak and Soundwave stumbled back and fell to the ground.

The femme cried out at the collapse of her carrier, but did not cease singing. Instead she increased the power to her own speakers and continued.

“Nice work, Bluestreak,” Optimus complimented him.

Megatron retaliated and fired back at the Autobots, and they were forced to take cover. His shock had worn off and Rosanna's surprising power had given him confidence. Though much of his force was inactive, they were no longer overwhelmed by numbers.

“So now what, Prime?” Jazz asked, limping in behind the building where Optimus Prime, Prowl, Powerglide, and Bluestreak were sheltering from Megatron's fusion cannon. Smoke still rose from his right ankle.

“Yeah, there are six of them and five of us now, once you take the zombies out of the count,” complained Powerglide.

“Prowl, what do you advise?” Optimus asked the tactician.

Prowl leaned out to look at where the four immune Decepticons were trying to convince Long Haul to transform so they could load him up with the energon cubes. And then he leaned around the other side of the building to see if Megatron was still on the rise above the switchyard. His peek was answered with another blast from the fusion cannon, sending him back into hiding. “Well Megatron's still got us pinned down here. As long as he has us stationary, and as long as the femme can keep up her song, they're safe and can finish their raid. If we can scatter, it might distract him enough for one of us to get up the hill and take out the singer.”

“I can take out Megatron,” Prime volunteered. “And then the singer. I seem to be fully immune to her hypnotizing effect.”

“But don't hurt her too much,” Bluestreak protested, real concern in his voice.

“Taking her out will free up the others and give us the advantage again,” Prowl continued. “And we'll only hurt her if we have to,” he said with a glance at Bluestreak, who looked much relieved.

Optimus nodded. “All right then. You four scatter. Powerglide, head for the sky. The rest of you roll out in vehicle mode. I'll roll out once Megatron is distracted and head up that hill.”

The five dropped into their vehicular modes.

“On three, move out! One... Two... Three!”

Four Autobots burst out from behind the building, and once Optimus saw Megatron's fire drawn in several different directions, he rolled for the top of the hill. Megatron did not see him coming in time and he managed to knock down the Decepticon leader.

The singing cassette-former wavered and stepped back, but kept up her song as Optimus threw himself on top of Megatron. The two grappled and rolled down the far side of the hill, colliding with Astrotrain. The triple changer had been sitting there as happy as could be, sipping a freshly made cube of energon and listening to Rosanna's song. “Knock it off, you idiots!” he growled at them as he got back to his feet. He aimed a few kicks at the downed prime, but having seen Astrotrain telegraph his attack, Optimus rolled over once more and the kicks ended up hitting Megatron instead.

And Astrotrain kept kicking, not really caring which of the interrupting pair he was connecting with. Someone had to be punished for spilling his energon and so rudely interfering with his entertainment.

“Astrotrain! You imbecile! Stop attacking me and get Optimus Prime off of me!” Megatron bawled.

Instead of following Megatron's command, Astrotrain gave his leader one final solid kick and stomped back up the hill. He flopped down on his stomach and continued watching Rosanna perform.

Groaning from the pain in his back, Megatron began to rise, but it was too late to react to Optimus grabbing him around the throat, hauling him to his feet, and punching him in the face so hard that he off-lined as his sensors were jolted by the blow. Optimus dropped the limp frame of the gunformer and strode back up the hill. He eyed Astrotrain warily, but knew the triple changer would not attack unless his viewing pleasure was interrupted. And when he did attack, it would take him a moment to get to his feet from his position.

“All right, songbird! The show's over,” Optimus said, picking up speed as he approached.

Rosanna turned and screamed on seeing the huge red and blue mech charging for her. As he reached out to grab her an astrosecond later, she rolled away, ducking his grasp. She came to rest against her fallen carrier mech and began tapping frantically on his unconscious frame. “Soundwave! Soundwave! Save me!” she cried desperately.

“He can't help you now,” gloated Optimus, reaching for her again. This time he managed to catch her, but only as she tranformed into her cassette mode. He brought her up to eye-level to examine her, but the sound of Astrotrain rising became a concern.

“Leave her alone, you Autobot scum!” the triple-changer snarled and reached for his rifle.

But Optimus seized his arm and managed to break the rifle away from him, then throwing him to the ground. He quickly picked up the fallen rifle and shot Astrotrain with it at point blank range.

And then he looked for Rosanna, who had fallen from his hand in the brief fight, had transformed, and was trying to run away on foot. Quickly he caught her, his massive hand enclosing her before she could transform again, and once more he brought her up to examine her.

Rosanna squealed as the Autobot leader held her close to his face. “Don't hurt me! Don't hurt me!” she whimpered pathetically as she squirmed in his grip.

Optimus Prime was amazed at her fearfulness, which bordered on cowardice, and he even slid back his grip to check if she was wearing a Decepticon logo. And yes she was, emblazoned right on her chest. Tears of fright spilled from her optics. “You haven't been a Decepticon long, have you?” he asked. 

She shook her head. “Not long. This is my first battle...and hopefully not my last,” she sniffled timidly.

“You know you could do a lot better...better as an Autobot. Your skills would be useful to us.”

“But I belong to Soundwave. He likes me to sing for him. He says I have a pretty voice.” She whimpered out a few tremulous words of a song in a language he didn't recognize. “~Main tere haath na aani~”

“Your voice stopped this battle.” 

She looked shyly to the side. “I don't like fighting. I just want to sing for everyone and make them happy.” She managed a weak smile, trying to garner some sympathy from the leader of the opposing faction. “~Kisi aur ki mujhko zaroorat kya. Main to khud se pyaar jataaun~”

“That's beautiful, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to stop you.”

“Why? Everyone loves my voice. Don't you?” she asked innocently and sang again. “~I know you want it, but you're never gonna get it. Tere haath kabhi na aani.~”

“Optimus! Optimus!” 

Optimus Prime tried to focus, and then tried to recalibrate his optics. That was Jazz's voice, wasn't it?

“Primus, Optimus, snap out of it!” growled a different voice.

A dark grey hand waved in front of his face, and then slapped him across the mask.

He stumbled but managed to catch himself. “Ironhide! What was that for?” he snapped as his eyes finally focused and found the red mech.

The third-in-command laughed. “Hey, welcome back to reality. We were starting to miss you.”

“Reality? I was just interrog...” He stopped on seeing that his hand, still held up in front of himself, was empty. “...interrogating the Decepticon Rosanna.” He looked about and began to realize that for an unspecified amount of time, the world had gone on without him.

“She's gone,” Ironhide huffed.

“I can see.”

Jazz laughed again. “I guess you aren't fully immune to her voice.”

“She got me, didn't she?” He looked to where the battle had been in the switchyard. “Where are the Decepticons?”

“Gone as well. You stopped the singing and they took off. And then...” Jazz gave a low chuckle. “And then you were just standing there looking at your hand.”

Optimus clapped said hand to his forehead, then he sagged defeatedly. “Did they escape with any of the energon?”

“Some unfortunately.” Ironhide shook his fist. “They had Long Haul about halfway full.” 

Optimus folded his arms in disgust. That little femme had gotten him good with whatever attack it was she'd used...right there in his hand.

“So did you learn anything from her?”

“Yes, a little. She likes to sing. She hasn't been a Decepticon long. And she's owned by Soundwave.”

“Owned?” Ironhide questioned.

“That's what she told me.”

“Probably a slave...but then why would she have status as a member of their faction. I did see the Decepticon insignia on her chest. Did she tell you anything else?”

Optimus shook his head. “Not that I remember.” He began to walk down the hill toward where Ratchet was loading the injured into a shuttle. “How long was I just standing there?” he asked sheepishly.

“I'd say about twenty to thirty minutes. I wasn't paying much attention really. You broke the song and then we chased off the Decepticons.”

“Well, good work then. Do we have any prisoners?”

“None, Prime. They grabbed their casualties before they left. They took Rosanna right out of your hand.”

Optimus huffed. He'd had her right there, and still she'd managed to work her hex on him. “I'll have to talk to Blaster. If anyone can tell us something about a mini-cassette with that sort of power, he'd be the most likely.”

Jazz and Ironhide nodded in agreement with this assessment.

“All set here,” Ratchet called, closing up the shuttle door. “I'm heading back to headquarters. Hoist and Wheeljack are waiting.”

“We'll stay here and see what we can do to help clean up. I'm going to guess we could use Grapple and Huffer's assistance here. If you could send them out when you arrive.”

“Will do, Prime.” Ratchet hopped into the shuttle and in moments it was airborne. Within a minute they could no longer hear it.

Optimus Prime moved over to where the human emergency crews were beginning to arrive, alerted by the plant operators that had been on duty. His mind was not on the cleanup though. So many questions had arisen from what should have been a typical skirmish with the enemy, and they all focused on the tiny pink Decepticon femme.

This certainly wouldn't be her last battle.

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The End

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End file.
